


Outtakes [another 'verse]

by Dont_call_me_Carrie



Series: Blurred Lines [3]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005), Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, During the Year that Never Was, Gen, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Year That Never Was, Year That Never Was
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-22
Updated: 2016-08-25
Packaged: 2018-05-22 16:48:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6087229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dont_call_me_Carrie/pseuds/Dont_call_me_Carrie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Snippets of timelines left unexplored [or, scenes that don't quite fit where planned].</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Debriefing the Valiant crew

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rough outline of what would've been, during the group debrief.

The Jones family is not alone; Jack Harkness, and several other crew members were also present for the debrief.

That is, the crew members who weren’t fanatically loyal to the madman, such as the ‘Head Interrogator’, and managed to survive the Year. Ray the galley chef, for example, would sneak crushed vitamins into the rare food rations Jack was allowed, and did his best to keep a sense of normalcy as the conditions permitted; he had been a fresh graduate from culinary school, and managed to survive solely because of how much the Master had liked his pork roast, as several scars could attest. Mandy, the grandmotherly chief of waiting staff, who’d done her best to assign shifts so as to keep everyone alive, had not been so lucky; a flu had somehow gotten on the Valiant seven months in, and they hadn’t seen her since.

For the most part, Martha was silent during the group talk; everyone else knew each other, and she was the outsider. [ _ ~~Again.~~_ ] She didn’t resent it, though- unlike the way she used to when the Doctor spoke about Rose. [ _Which she could now relate to, if this Rose was to him what Tom and Gada and Clara and John and Paninya and all the rest were to her._ ]  
“He mentioned something about how Portugal put up an interesting amount of resistance.” Someone Martha didn’t know stated, their voice cracking.

“We were forced to watch Japan burn. We don’t know why—“ a voice choked out.

“I do. There was a colony of the Drast trying to get out, they were ready to blow up the planet to do it. He didn’t notice because they had a strong perception filter, but Griffin took it down when he was trying to escape.” Martha muttered, and tried to ignore the stares, she really did.


	2. During the Year: Moriarty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone was busy during the Year. Some more than others. Moriarty's empire didn't crumble, it merely...shifted priorities.
> 
> [Or, Crime doesn't rest, even during the end of the world.]

In another life, had he been just a few more degrees unstable, Jim knew that he would have been cackling as he saw cities burn. [ _For a moment, he thinks that he distantly hears “That’s what people DO!”_ ]

 

As it was, however, all he could do was marvel at the sheer waste that this madman created. [ _Had he been in that man’s shoes, he would have done a far better job, this was wasteful on more than one level, how pathetic._ ] His network had indicated that the Master was supposed to be more…refined, than what he’d seen so far, with a plan far more elegant in its execution. [ _Running for Prime Minister and winning was impressive, mind, but what followed was just sloppy all around. Brute force, when he had all that at hand? Getting so much attention, so fast out of the gate? The fool._ ]

 

As it was, the main thing that kept his network together was its nature and his genius when he’d created it. Even so, it had shifted dramatically; no one needed a ‘Dear Jim’ as much as they needed food rations, anymore, after all. But he managed. 

 

He was rather amused at the speed at which his network had shifted to other concerns, and fortunately for everyone, this Martha Jones was _interesting._ [ _Figures that he’d meet another interesting person during the end of everything, and not earlier. He’d also been looking into some Sher-something person who’d sounded promising, but. Circumstances changed._ ] A woman who spread hope like no other, and was charismatic enough to convince all around her not only listen, but help her at the risk to their own safety? Her potential was just _gorgeous_. 

 

And this Doctor had to rely on her. 

 

If the rumors and stories and legends were true, he didn’t have bad taste in who to pick, but Jim still couldn’t quite bite back a sneer at how fragile the alien apparently turned out to be. Martha was _interesting_ ; pity she had to take care of this mess. [ _Hopefully, once this was all over, she’d be amendable to joining him. He offered some very appealing benefits to his people, after all. And if she didn’t, well. He might bump her up on his list of people to play with. Both options sounded equally stimulating._ ]

 

He hadn’t had enough time to get a decent network going for Mr. Saxon’s men, but what few contacts he did have ensured their mens’ Searcher patrols were slightly less… _thorough_ in the weeks Martha was in the area, and turned a blind eye to people telling stories, no matter how fantastical they were. And maybe repeated them, when off-duty and stationed in another camp. His people supplied the researchers and Resistance when they were able to, and got to ground when necessary. [ _That person he’d started to get interested in, Sherlock Holmes, didn’t have the time to play, he was too busy being a researcher, dissecting Toclofane. Pity. He’d sounded like he’d put up a good challenge. But maybe after? But then Martha…Hmm…choices, choices._ ]

 

His people were the ones to escort her from Tajikistan to Nepal, and a contact in Moscow ensured that she was in good hands as far as Beijing, even if the local Resistance wasn’t aware of it. [ _Honestly, these ex-military people got so worked up about the strangest of things. The criminal underworld was still influential, and with a shared enemy, it should’ve been a no-brainer, but no. Fools._ ] Some of them also had taught her some things along the way; dearest Soichi was a weapons aficionado, and if it hadn’t been for that pesky ‘dishonorable discharge’ on her record [ _her CO had been just a bit too well-connected, and took her rejection personally_ ]she would have been breathtaking as a demolitions specialist; as it was, she knew her stock inside-out, and had no issue teaching her charge about them as they traversed several hundred kilometers. And he had the sneaking suspicion that one of the ex-KGB muscle had probably taught her how to fight, [ _because if he remembered correctly, Andrei had a daughter her age, and he’d been stuck in Siberia during a shipment when the world was placed under martial law_ ] but made sure to call Moncerrat to give her a crash course when she arrived, just in case. And Godddard as well; she would be able to provide support from her side of the pond.

 

Weeks passed, and the day they’d been talking about for nearly a year arrived. Part of Jim didn’t want to do it, because he’d lost all respect for Time Lords when he’d found out that they’d sent someone who was barely old enough to buy alcohol as an errand girl, but out of respect for Martha and maybe a touch of desperation [ _they would not fail, and even if they did, he had several contingency plans in place. They would win, eventually. They had the data, he had the resources, it was impossible for any other outcome. But Martha’s way was a better option by far_ ], he did. And then the world erupted into light.

 

—  
Jim shook his head, and wondered why a migraine decided to strike now, of all times. He was busy trying to get everything back under control, smoothing feathers and wondering what type of idiot Prime Minister shot one of the most visibly influential men on Earth. He hadn’t voted, too busy dealing with matters in Belize, but now he wondered why he hadn’t looked into overseeing the way the P.M. election had been rigged. Normally, it would have been less blatant than whatever Saxon had done, but this had been interesting to watch. Until now, anyway.

 

Now he was even busier than ever, because that _fool_ had just undone several months’ worth of bribing and careful maneuvering in the Cabinet, and—! He pressed his thumbs against his temples to alleviate the pressure, and looked towards the excitedly babbling reporter.

 

On screen, the television showed the huge tear in the sky, followed by a swarm of small silver flying orbs, only to disappear several seconds later. ‘It worked,’ came the absent thought, an immediately wondered why. Or why the name Martha Jones came to mind. No matter, if it was important, he’d remember; but he did make a memo to look into her. But meanwhile, he was busy.

 

[ _When he did, he wondered why he’d been so interested in looking into some medical student, albeit it one with a bright future ahead of her. His curiosity got piqued when his network picked up activity involving UNIT, but he wasn’t able to get a file with any of the bits that interested him. And then she dropped back into obscurity, while Sherlock Holmes went and made himself interesting, so it was perfectly understandable that he stopped looking into the curious case of Martha Jones. The strange dreams in the days that followed didn’t help, either._ ]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing this Moriarty is equal parts tricky and...not. [Certainly a _lot_ easier than Sherlock.]
> 
> This is set in the same universe as Blurred Lines, but I couldn't quite fit it anywhere into the story. It came about sometime between when I started to mash both universes together, and realized that sheer implications of that meant that there were _so many stories_. Some of them, like the During the Year timeline for Moriarty, actually came out easier than the main story.


	3. During the Aftermath, Pt. II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was slated to go in Chapter 5 of Blurred Lines, but couldn't quite figure out how to dovetail this, as well as Jones family issues, into the story.
> 
> Wherein Martha and Jack are semi-codependent bros, and a few questions go unanswered.

“Hey, Martha. Did I wake you up?” 

She blearily eyed the skyline, grabbed a mug, and promptly lied. “No. Are you okay? Anything you want to talk about?” [ _She would’ve woken anyway, judging by her internal clock…_ ]

“Another day, another case. Should be rote by now, all things considered. Except someone ‘discovered’ the existence of Weevils, and decided that they were the intrepid scientists ‘exploring a new frontier’. The recordings we found were shoddy, but some of the tools were…well, I have no intention of sleeping.”

“Alright then.” Martha swallowed. “Do you want to talk about it, or would you rather hear about the scintillating experience that was paperwork today?”

She practically heard him nod. “Because I’d thought I’d seen all sorts as an intern and later a doctor, but now…there’s a form for insurance and pet ownership. What even.”

She knew what they’d be talking about, when Jack laughed.

Neither of them were fooled.

 

———

 

“Hey, Jack, what languages can you speak?”

“I quit keeping track decades ago. Er…Modified Sumerian doesn’t really count, and humanoid vocal chords can’t quite grasp the range needed for some of the others. And I’m rusty in some of the common ones right now. Why?”

Does the TARDIS still do the translations after the Doctor heads on his way?”

“Martha?”

“Je ne sais pas pourquoi est-ce que je parle dans autre langues. J'ai appris un peu de français dans l'ecole, mais l'italien?*” Came out from the tiny speaker.

Jack froze. Then, in a moment of incredulity, “привет**?”

He heard Martha heave a sigh. “Okay, I _know_ I never took Russian in school. Any ideas? Because I’ve already weirded out the liaison between UNIT and my family.”

“Oh?” Jack couldn’t resist. “You mind?”

“No, non… Apparently I speak German. Had a good few minutes of conversation, and only noticed when she said my accent was good. So, do you know how long the TARDIS translates?”

“…Not that I know of. I think that there are remnants that linger for a few days, and it weakens the language barrier, but it’s been a few weeks since the Year…Er, I picked up what I know either as an Agent, with Torchwood, and both World Wars. Among other things. When I was a companion, I didn’t really notice, because,” _things got hectic and I was left for dead,_ “things got complicated. Where did you pick up yours?”

“Not really sure, to be honest. Hm…I knew some areas were harder to communicate with than others, but I thought that was just because of accents and culture. I thought the TARDIS might’ve been translating the whole time. You’re saying she _wasn’t?_ ”

“…”

“Oh this is going to be fun.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I do not know why I'm talking in other languages. I learned a little French in school, but Italian?  
> **Hello?
> 
> It's possible to slip up when it come to languages; more than once, I've caught myself saying something in German when I'd been speaking English, or slipping in French when speaking Spanish. That's as someone who's trying to learn new languages as a hobby; I'd wondered how Martha, and some of the other companions, did their thing when, presumably, the translation circuit might or might not've covered them. [Like during the Year, English was a lingua franca at the time, and if that didn't work, French was always a good fallback. Martha's travel companions would then gradually up their usage of the local language as they noticed that she understood what they'd slipped up.]
> 
> Long story short: Martha's adventures in time and space left her with a weaker language barrier than nearly anyone else on Earth. Random bits and pieces will slip out, like curses in Russian, or a throwaway comment in Nahuatl- and it'll be because of the people she spent the most time with, during the Year. [Which will throw a wrench in the works when she's interacting with either of the Holmes brothers, both of whom didn't see that coming.]
> 
> Also, pardon my grammar; it's been years since I've taken French, and even then it was only the basics.


End file.
